


Letting Go

by Judgement



Series: A thousand lifetimes [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judgement/pseuds/Judgement
Summary: When love falls apart and happy endings don't happen.





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> There is no shame in trying, but you must know when to let go, no matter how much it hurts.

She didn’t understand where she’d gone wrong, where it had all gone wrong. Wanted to say she didn’t know when it had all started but she  _knew_ and it hurt to know that the drift had been forming between them for so long. That he kept it a secret for so long as if she wouldn’t find out, as if she didn’t notice the bloody knuckles and busted up lip.

They confronted each other more often, ending in arguments and before she could reign it in he’d storm out and she wouldn’t see him for  _days_. He’d skip class and only after he beat whatever sense someone had out of them would he return. She’d never felt so helpless and so  _alone_  each and every argument.

Wanting so desperately to return to the quiet, happy comfort that they were used to. For him to  _stay_  and keep her company rather than punch a wall and leave to god knows where. So she kept quiet despite her gut telling her not to— she  _needed_  him in her life, more than he needed her. So when he came home with bloody knuckles and a busted lip she pursed her lips but gently edged him to the bathroom. Taking care of the blood and assessing what was his and what wasn’t, bandaging up what she could before making them something to eat.

It was quiet and it was  _lonely_  in some ways, he was there physically but she had never felt so emotionally distant from him. She wouldn’t lie to herself, she was an emotional person by nature, thrived on communication and easily picked up on others. But he was so  _cut off_  from her she felt adrift, as if thrown into a void where nothing existed around her. Cold, hollow, she couldn’t grasp for something to pull her out of it, she simply had to allow herself to float around him. Never touching, never talking, she existed and at times it barely felt like that.

Their eyes barely met, he only let her touch him to patch up a wound or two. At one point dinner together became dinner later, she’d eat alone and he’d wait til he thought she was asleep to heat up the leftovers and eat by himself.

She wasn’t ignorant, she knew he was avoiding her and it  _hurt_  to be so unwanted. What kept her around? Familiarity? Because she cooked and cleaned and did both their homework so he didn’t flunk? She’d spend the night worrying about it,  _alone_  because that’s all she ever was with him. He stopped sharing the bed with her, instead he slept on the couch. He waited til she was ‘asleep’ to do anything and was gone before she actually woke up.

It had become too much, it was too painful. She didn’t exist in his world anymore, she wasn’t even a glance in his eye or focus. She was in the way, a burden— no, she wasn’t even  _that;_ she didn’t exist in his world anymore. Invisible.

So she’d broken down, begged him to listen— cried until her chest felt like he’d stuck his hand through it and ripped the beating organ from her. A hollow ache that only grew larger each step he took away from her, and she swore it finally stopped when he slammed the door shut. Done. He was done with her.

It was a vivid memory, she’d  _screamed_  her heart out in agony, clutching at her chest as she fell to her knees and curled into a fetal position. He was her everything, he had been there for her,  _rescued her_  and took her in— what was she to do without him?

It took her hours before she could pull herself to her feet, and even then the sobs wracked and she found herself leaning against whatever solid surface was nearby to help bear the trembles. She’d cleaned up, she’d cooked everything in the fridge and wrapped it up, marked it with a label that would tell him when it’d go bad. She did the laundry, took down the things she set up around the house as they lived together and packed it in a box. One box became two until there were five boxes of  _things_  that she’d bought them, spread around the house. Pictures piled neatly within the box and she contemplated taking them, taking all of it. But she didn’t, she packed a bag of her clothes and school supplies and left. The homeless shelter didn’t bat an eye when she walked in, in the middle of the night. She’d signed herself in before finding an empty cot among the others and curled herself up, exhausted.

The days ticked by, a friend let her temporarily stay with them until she found a new.. more permanent place. Though Adrian  _desperately_  wished he’d come to her, ask her to come back and work through the things— it didn’t happen. Not when he finally came into the classroom and sat himself down the furthest away from her and rested his head against his arms, promptly to sleep, she assumed.

It hurt, he didn’t even look at her while her eyes were on him the entire time. A crestfallen gaze, dragging away from his hunched form down to the homework in front of her. Lip trembling as she swallowed down the urge to cry.

When the class ended, she remain rooted in her seat, unable to bring her legs to stand. They were like jelly in her despair and only when the last person filed out did she realize she was alone with him. He was awake, staring across the room at the blackboard with his head in his hand. Waiting? She didn’t know. It hurt. Each movement was difficult, each breath shallow as she packed her things up and hugged her bag to her chest.

Ticktock. A repeated noise from the clock above the door, it filled up the silence and ate away at her nerves until she breathed out a trembling sigh. Pulling herself to her feet and making her way to the door. They’d said what they wanted to that night, there was nothing left to go back to.

“I’m sorry,” She stopped at the doorway, looking forward and despite everything in her bones telling her to  _look at him_  she refused. “I can’t help you.”  _You don’t even want me, or my help._  “Not.. that you wanted it.” She was tripping over her words, tripping on what she meant and so she fled. Taking off down the empty corridors and had he been about to say something she wouldn’t know. She’d never know.

They were strangers now.


End file.
